The Great War
by Ibenheikei
Summary: The United States has taken over the world, and even though Alfred is America himself, he had no idea this was coming. Now, he hides, like the rest of the Nations, waiting for a chance to free their counries from American rule. One-sided IvanXAlfred
1. Prolouge

Hello! This is not my first fan fiction, I've created a new account, because I can't log back into my other one. I hope you enjoy the story I've brought, and will try to update as quickly as possible. I will also be re-posting fanfics from my old account.

The Great War

Prologue

A young girl sits in her school desk, reading from a text book. Her eyes scan the words that have become the most recent history. The book is only a year old. Nothing much has changed since it was printed. She turns the page, and continues reading.

_The Great War was a massive conflict of the world. Greater than the first World Wars, and even the Cold War. It has, quite literally, ended war. America now has governments in ever occupied nation, controlling them so that nothing like The Great War can happen again. It was a war America was destined to win. _

In another part of America, preferably, underground, a young looking man is reading the same book, with a sneer on his face. "Liars…" He muttered, as he flipped the page in disgust. But, he continued reading anyways, not because Arthur told him to, but because he was curious about what else had been fabricated.

_Many has asked who was the original starter of The Great War. Some have said that America herself- _"Himself…" -_was the original starter of the war. This is not true. Russia was the instigator. Russian spies assassinated the President on November 9, 2018. They were captured, and interrogated. The information took from them told us of a war that Russia was planning. America decided not to stand for such an atrocity. Two days later, Russia declared war on the United States, and our response was to fight. However, Russia did have allies, but-_

Alfred F. Jones closed the book and threw it down in disgust. He crossed his arms, leaning his head back. He was seated in an armchair in a small living room, there was a coffee table, stained, with the glass cracked sitting idly next to him. Across from him was a blank wall. Behind the chair and coffee table, there was a door from which light spilled from, and the smell of cooking food. Arthur Kirkland walked in, having heard the little book tossed carelessly. "Git, I told you to read that.""I'm not reading lies Art', so don't try and make me do it again. I'm getting sick from reading it…" Alfred snapped back, rocking forward, the American got up, and looked to him. Arthur still looked quite young, despite his age. His hair had grown out a bit, and was pulled back in a ponytail. Alfred thought it looked pretty nice, but he really didn't mind the short hair. The Englishman was wearing a simple white button shirt with black slacks, and no shoes. An apron was tied on around his waist. He sighed."Alright…I won't make you. I just thought it might do good, after all, you need to know your 'history'" He said with an unrefined snort. Alfred chuckled. "History, right. So, what exactly was your point? Please tell me it wasn't that 'those who don't know history are bound to repeat it crap'" Arthur turned, one foot raised to step into the kitchen. "Oh, no. I actually wanted you to read….but…" The darker blond rummaged in his pants pocket, and his hand emerged with an old envelope, sealed with wax. "An owl brought it this morning. Got no idea how that bugger knew to send it to me like that, he must have been more well read than I thought." Arthur said, tossing it to Alfred. Alfred himself still looked quite the same. His hair was still cut how it was nearly fifty years ago, just before the war started, his attire consisted of a red t-shirt, and faded jeans. He still had his glasses, which was a miracle, because they were really hard to get now a days. "Who…Who sent this, Arthur?" Alfred said. That was when he turned the letter over, to see a name in bold Cyrillic. Alfred recognized the handwriting immediately…how could he forget. "Oh my god…" Arthur smiled."Ivan."


	2. Letters and British Food

This story will contain graphic content, violence, language, and probably explicit yaoi in latter chapters. This fic is intended for adults. I do not own Hetalia or the characters.

The Great WarChapter 1Letters and British Food

Mouth gaping, Alfred looked at the innocent little letter. "Holy shit…Ivan you mad fuck…" He muttered. Then, a smile crossed his face, and he tore it open, laughing. "You bastard! Holy shit I thought he was dead! Hahahaha!" Arthur winced, and retreated back into the kitchen to finish breakfast. His smile suddenly faded."Awww man….fuck! It's all Cyrillic, bastard knows how I hate reading this shit.." He grumbled, but smiled again. He knew Ivan had his back to his chair, he went ahead and sat. The smell of the ink was nice, he'd smelled it before back in peacetime, when he would visit his friend, and would wait patiently as he would scribble out the remaining documents his boss had requested. The neat handwriting was enough to make his eyes water. "Really you…It's you…." He smiled, and took a moment to clear his eyes. "Alright, lets do this."

_Alfred_

_I do hope you've gotten this. If you have, then good, my idea wasn't a total waste. I can't believe it took me so long to figure out a way to write to you.I'm not wanting to discuss pleasantries, or discuss much, anyways. As you can obviously tell I am alive. I can't tell you where I'm at, but it's in a good place, and I've taken you there before. I hope your grease-stained brain can remember. I'm getting tired comrade. Tired of sitting here and not being able to do anything. I don't know how much longer I can sit idle, knowing your people are above, occupying my land. It's strange, and feels all , I know you are not to blame for any of this. The message you left me in the beginning did in fact reach me. I knew you wouldn't lie.I think that…now is the time for us to emerge. We need to retake our homes, Alfred, and purge your citizens. I know what you're thinking. You believe I'm quite mad requesting something like this. But we are Nations Alfred. We're not alone. I have many of my countrymen with me, and I'm sure there are plenty in your home willing to fight. Your people aren't stupid. Arthur is with you, yes? I'm sure his people would love to take up arms against their Amerikan government. We need to do this. We can't let this go on, my friend. I know you of all people would want this to end, to set things right.I'm confident we can retake our homes. We should start with yours, in fact. The rest will fall into place. Take care, and I hope to hear from you soon. Send an owl, it's actually quite fun._

_Your comrade, _

_Ivan Braginski_

"Damn…" Alfred set the letter down in his lap, blinking back tears. He laughed softly. "Somehow I'm not surprised…you are mad enough to do this…" He laughed, and stood. "Hey, Arthur, we got pen and paper, right? Oh, and is Ivan's owl still hangin' about." He called. "Yes! Go in our room, but hurry, breakfast is almost ready." Alfred nodded, and walked down the short hall into the shared room. There was a large bed occupying the middle, and no windows. A lamp above was dimly casting light over the meager furniture. As expected, the owl, a tawny, intelligent thing, was perched on the corner of the dresser. "Hold on buddy, I'll give ya something to take back in a moment." Rummaging through the closet, he found his items, and started writing. It was short, and that's all he wanted it to be._Ivan_

_Got your letter. I think you're mad, but in a good way. I'm getting tired of this as well. I haven't had a cheeseburger in a crazy long time. Trips to the surface are spotty at best, and Arthur would kill me if I risked going into a MD's just for a burger. I'll tell you what. How about Art and I meet you in that place. My grease-stained brain remembers quite well. I'm surprised your brain hasn't been dissolved by all that damn vodka. Hahaha. Anyways, I'll seeya. And don't try and stop me. _

_Your comrade, and hero,_

_Alfred F. Jones_

Folding the note back up, the blond grabbed some yarn from the closet, and snapped off two long pieces, and used one to keep the letter closed, and the other to attach the letter to the owl. He picked it up, and walked through the living room to another door, and opened it to reveal a long set of stairs. Walking up, he opened that door, and emerged into what used to be an office building. He checked to make sure no one was inside, before he stepped over the floor, and to a third door this time. Outside, he could hear distant cars. Opening the doors, he looked about in the bright sunlight. The part of the city he and Arthur were holed up in was completely deserted. Most of the buildings had been turned to rubble and hollowed out shells. This part was off limits to the people anyways, and Alfred still hasn't figured out why. Shouldn't they be rebuilding this place? Oh well. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, he looked to his companion. "Go see Ivan." he said, and threw it up into the air. He watched it take flight, and smiled. "So beautiful…" He said, and retreated back into the building. It never occurred to him on how that bird could fly across the world.

Back inside, Alfred met with Arthur, and told him of his success. "Well, good. Ah, breakfast is ready, so you may as well eat before doing anything else." His stomach gave a little lurch. Breakfast with Arthur usually meant no cheeseburgers, soda, or french-fries…But Alfred sucked it up. "Alright…" He mumbled. "But first…." Walking up behind Arthur, he pressed him to the counter top, Alfred kissed him gently, his hands reaching up to cup his face. Arthur started, pushing his hands against the bold American, but to no avail. He leaned back, lips parting in protest, only to have Alfred's tongue invade his mouth. Then, Alfred was off. "Just wanted something' sweet before breakfast." He said, smiling. Blushing madly, Arthur smacked the back of his head. "Git!" "I love you too, Arthur."

_Retribution _


End file.
